Chapter 20 #2
“Sorry not sorry, Spence,” Daphne calls out over her shoulder. “The whole ‘I need you to take me to the theater for my purse’ thing was a bit of a half-truth. Have fun, you two. I’ll lock the doors.” She blows a kiss, and then she and Audrey disappear into the night, both of them giggling.
Spencer hasn’t taken his focus off me. He’s wearing black slacks and a button-up shirt.
And a gray sweater vest.
I smile. I can’t wait to take it off.
I saunter toward him. “Like what you see?”
“What is this?” His voice is raspy, his eyes devouring me head to foot.
I stop in front of him, crossing my feet at the ankles and leaning on the glass countertop of the concession stand. “I thought it would be fun to have a date night here. Alone.”
He swallows. “I am definitely into that. I’m almost scared to touch you so I don’t ruin anything.”
I reach for his hand. “That’s kind of the point. Come on.”
His fingers lace with mine, and I lead him to the reel room. All of the old photos and boxes have been cleared away, and a small table and chairs are set up in the center of the room with some fake flickering candles, a bottle of wine, and a box of pizza.
“Hey, Cosmic Pizza. You remembered.” He smiles at me, tugging me closer for a kiss.
When his lips hit mine, all the worry about how he would react to my little date night, all the questions I wanted to ask, evaporates like smoke in the wind.
Wait. No. I reel my thoughts back in. I have to talk to him, or else I’ll end up putting it off again and then stewing in private.
I pull back.
He searches my eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“I keep worrying about the ethics thing.”
“Vivien—”
“No, hear me out.” I press a hand against his chest. “You spent weeks telling me we couldn’t do this. Then suddenly we can. And I’m worried about how it will impact your career if you get in trouble or something.”
His mouth twitches. “You’re worried about me?”
“Of course.”
His hands slide up and down my arms. “I was worried about you.”
“Really?”
“I already reached out to a friend in Boston who can take over managing the estate if things go sideways, but I doubt they will.”
My mouth pops open. “You did that.”
He shrugs. “Of course. In the small chance that our relationship becomes a problem, I want you to be covered.”
“But what about you?”
“What about me?” He leans down, brushing a kiss against my shoulder.
I groan. “Spencer.” He’s trying to distract me. And it’s going to work.
He leans back. “You want the lawyer answer or the honest answer?”
“Those should be the same thing.”
“In theory. Don’t worry. I did a risk assessment.”
“You what?”
“I’m a lawyer. We literally assess risk for a living.”
I am not sure how I feel about this. “You made a spreadsheet about our relationship?”
He chuckles. “There was no spreadsheet, but there may have been notes.”
“And what was the determination?”
He smiles. “I decided the benefits outweighed the risks. I looked at every possible worst-case scenario I could come up with. The truth is, it’s not likely to happen.” His lips curve. “The person I’m most concerned about reporting us is Jerry.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
“He’s a blabbermouth.” His thumb traces my cheek.
“The risk might be small, but if it hurts your career—”
He links his fingers with mine. “Then we’ll deal with it.”
“You say that now.” I squeeze his hands.
“No.” He waits until I meet his eyes. “I’m saying whatever happens, we’re in it together. And trust me, Vivien, you are worth the risk.
His fingers unlink from mine and then down my neck, playing with the straps of my shirt, sliding down the silky fabric, and coming to rest on my ass. He grips me and groans.
His arousal pokes against my stomach.
I chuckle, breaking our kiss. “We haven’t had dinner yet.”
“Can we do that next?” He trails kisses behind my ear. “I promise not to mess up your outfit.”
I don’t see how that’s possible, but I tilt my head to give him better access. “Yes.”
Like I could say no.
His grip glides up my back and around to the front. He nibbles on my neck and cups my breasts in his hands, his thumbs brushing over my nipples and setting all my nerves on fire.
He groans against my neck. “You’re killing me here.”
I’m not wearing a bra.
I slip a hand between us, rubbing against the front of his pants where his erection throbs. “Let me take care of this.”
He drops suddenly, kneeling in front of me. “You first.”
Every cell in my body exalts, like he hasn’t already given me a hundred orgasms in the last week. Somehow, I’m still starving for more.
Warm palms run up my bare legs, pushing my skirt up to my waist. The warmth runs back down my limbs, all the way to my feet. “I love these.”
I stare down at the top of Spencer’s dark head. “My shoes? They’re Audrey’s.”
He looks up at me, his dark eyes hot. “Not the shoes. You. All of it.”
Did he just—?
But I don’t have a chance to think through his words because he presses his mouth against my panties.
I gasp.
His finger slips underneath the fabric, pushing into me, only an inch.
“Spencer,” I moan.
Then he pulls my panties to one side and moves closer.
“Oh god.” I hold onto his head, my legs trembling.
His movements are careful, his tongue and lips exerting only the lightest touch.
Slowly, oh so slowly, his finger moves further, and the pressure of his mouth increases until I’m panting and squirming and he’s driving me absolutely mad with need.
His finger pushes into me fully. I’m wound as tight as a bowstring. The combination of his mouth and hands triggers my release, shooting through me with a snap and shoving me over the edge. The orgasm rushes through me, and I would collapse in a puddle if he didn’t catch me.
He scoops me up in a bridal carry and takes me over to the sofa, sitting down with me in his lap, his lips brushing against my temple, down to my ear, nibbling at my jaw while I catch my breath.
If my body wasn’t so boneless, I might be uncomfortable with the skirt still tucked up around my waist, but as it is, I can’t summon the energy to care.
I can summon the energy for something else though.
Shifting in his lap, I twist in his direction to straddle him and then kiss his beautiful mouth, our tongues brushing.
“I want you inside me,” I speak against his lips.
His hands immediately attack his pants, unbuttoning and shoving them down far enough that his erection springs free.
I’m so glad we had the STD-pregnancy-protection talk days ago. Because right now, I can pull the fabric of my underwear to the side and sink down on him in one smooth movement.
“Shit,” Spencer breathes.
For a minute, neither of us moves, gazes locked. My breath catches in my lungs, complex sensations wrenching their way through my heart.
He cups my head in warm palms, and then we’re kissing. I am moving up and down, his hips jerking underneath me.
He breaks away, gasping. “I can’t, I’m too—”
I speed up. “It’s okay.”
His eyes meet mine and then fall shut again as pleasure picks him up and shakes him, his body shuddering and jerking against me, his head falling against my chest.
For a minute, we sit together, his head on my chest, my fingers weaving into his hair, gently rubbing his scalp.
He sighs. “I’ll give you an hour to stop doing that.”
But then his stomach rumbles.
I chuckle. “Are you hungry?”
“It’s true that I haven’t eaten anything since a protein bar this morning, but eating would require moving, and that might be more than I can handle right now.”
“You can stay here, and I’ll grab some pizza.”
“You moving might also be more than I can handle right now.”
“What if I take off these clothes, then bring you pizza?” That way I won’t get any sauce or grease on Aubrey’s fancy clothes.
He leans back. “Sold.”
We end up both stripping to our underwear and eating pizza on the couch and drinking wine, talking about anything and everything. I’m not sure if this is how a typical date is supposed to go, but I like it.
When we’re done, full, and a little warm from the wine, we go through the secret passageway in the closet to the projection room to start the movie, Some Like It Hot. I show Spencer how to thread the film into the projector.
“Back in the day, the reels were smaller. The studios would ship a bunch of separate ones so someone had to sit in the projection room and wait for a circle to flash in the top right corner. They called it a cigarette burn.”
He steps close behind me. “Oh, I’ve heard of this. The cue to switch to the next real.”
“Exactly. Sometime in the 1970s they switched to a continuous platter.”
His arms slide around my waist and his chin rests gently on my shoulder. “So we don’t have to sit here and babysit it?”
“Nope.”
Once I’m done, we go back into the passage to get to the theater.
“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” Spencer says.
“I think they put it in to hide booze during Prohibition.” But of course, Beverly strung up shimmering lights and fake candlesticks and the occasional treasure chest full of costumes and trinkets and fake jewelry and old photos.
Colorful rugs line the pathway. It’s narrow, hardly wide enough for us to walk side by side.
“I like that it’s tall enough to stand in.”
“Yeah. That makes it easier to move around down here, for sure. It gets kinda tight under the theater chair though—”
He stops me with a hand on my arm. “It also makes it easier to do this.”
He presses me back against the cool stone wall, and then we’re kissing, and my legs are lifting, locking around his waist. We kiss like we didn’t just have sex thirty minutes ago, and then he’s thrusting into me, his eyes hot and searing in the dim tunnel.
This time, we find our release together, both of us calling out in the dark, our cries bouncing off the narrow walls.
When we finally climb out of the passage and make it to the theater, the movie is rolling and about a quarter of the way in.
“I almost forgot about the movie part of date night,” I say.
Spencer is smug. “I really like all parts of date night.”
We find popcorn, a small cooler of water and drinks, and a variety of candy waiting on one of the love seats in the back. When the movie ends, the screen goes white, flickering slightly.
I turn to him. “I’ve got to go shut off the projector.”
“I’ll go with you.”
We grab our trash on the way out, and he follows me back to the projector room, where I shut the reel off.
We move slowly, like neither of us wants the night to end. Spencer helps me dress, warm hands smoothing down the skirt, gentle fingers tugging the shirt over my head.
“It’s a shame to cover all this up.”
“Jerry would arrest me, for sure.”
“I wouldn’t let him.”
I grab my overnight bag, and we turn off the lights.
Outside, a black SUV with tinted windows idles at the curb.
I frown at the car. Who is that? “Do you know who that is?” Did Audrey or Daphne get us a ride? That would be weird, since Spencer’s is literally three blocks away.
But the door opens, and my mother steps out. My heart drops into my toes.
Shit.